Sunrise
by DorkQueen
Summary: With Puck working at Malvern Yard, Sean's usually solitary mornings are disrupted. Set a few months after the end of The Scorpio Races, from Sean's POV. Oneshot, complete


**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Scorpio Races.**

* * *

It is early morning when I come into the stable, and yet I can already hear Puck's yells.

"Oh, you didn't think, did you? Of course not. One would think that in that great lump of a head of yours, there'd be a sizable brain, but _no_. The only thing filling that bulging forehead is a load of hot air."

The corners of my mouth quirk up. With quick strides, I pass by the first few stalls, occupied by thoroughbreds and drafts slowly blinking their sleep-heavy eyes.

As I get closer, I become aware of an increasingly strong stench. One sniff tells me enough. Most people would just recognize it as an unpleasant smell; stable hands are more familiar with the scent and can name the source more specifically.

Some horse must have had a field day because the smell is stronger than usual.

Taking measured breaths so that I don't have to breathe in more than I have to, I focus on the two lone figures standing in the middle of the aisle.

I recognize the larger one as Wendell, a mainland boy who arrived in Thisby just a couple of weeks ago. The other is, of course, Puck. With one hand propped on her hip and her neck drawn forward, she appears to intimidate the new boy, despite all his bulk.

"I came in this morning hoping that for once, you boys would have done your job and done it well. Instead, I find _this_—" here, she waves her arms ambiguously, "—and an asleep berk who has no idea what he's done."

Wendell's head is drawn down, only lifting it to cast wistful glances at the door. Technically, he should be home by now, well-deserving of a day of rest after working the night shift. Unfortunately, he seems to have put on himself the bad luck of being this morning's recipient of Puck's rant.

"What's going on here?" I ask, cutting into their conversation. I'm not sure it could be called a conversation, as Puck seems to be doing most of the talking while the other cowers.

Narrowed blue eyes are now turned on me. "This boy," Puck says, drawing out the word, "is an idiot."

Wendell says nothing.

I sigh. "What happened, Wendell?"

He shifts his weight and sneaks a glance at me. I keep my face impassive. When he is reassured I won't blow up at him like Puck did, he speaks.

"Last night, I was feeding the horses," he starts and runs a hand through his choppy hair, "and I might have forgotten that the night feeding is only one-fourth as much as the normal feeding."

I wince. Casting a quick glance at the stalls surrounding me, I can see the painful evidence.

"So not only does it smell and look like a pig's trench in here," Puck says, her voice dangerously low, "but some of the horses are sick and we've run out of hay, which means that I'm going to have to report to Malvern and he's going to be blaming me for the mess that is the fault of a careless little twit."

Her voice rises as she continues, making some of the nearby horses prick up their ears and others shift restlessly.

"Puck," I warn. Turning to Wendell, who looks like he is going to spoil his pants, I say, "You see the consequences of your thoughtlessness. You'll be more careful in the future, I hope?"

"Yes, sir," the boy replies meekly.

"Go home, then," I say. Relieved, the boy runs off and disappears into the faint glow of sunlight at dawn. I look back at Puck, who looks defiantly back at me like a child about to be scolded.

I struggle not to smile and lose. "Is it impossible for you to start off a morning without screeching at a stable boy?"

"You have to admit that that one deserved it," she replies. "And I do not _screech_."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Fine, maybe a little," she relents. "But every morning, I come in and find more messes and more work for me, so excuse me if I'm not in a good mood."

"Half of them are terrified by you," I tell her. "I don't blame them. If you could see yourself in the morning, I think you'd be terrified too." She makes a face at me.

"They're not the ones who have to report to Malvern."

She says his name with less fear and more distaste. I wonder if Puck has ever been afraid of him, if she's ever been afraid of anyone.

"Could you at least try to be a little nicer?"

"If they want to be lazy slops, then I'll treat them like lazy slops," Puck continues stubbornly, but I see the edges of her mouth soften. She is secretly as fond of the boys as I am. "I never thought I'd say this, but some of them are worse than Gabe and Finn."

She pushes open the door to the stall closest to us and wrinkles her nose. "You know, sometimes I think I'd rather work with the _capaill uisce_."

I raise an eyebrow. Puck has never complained before about the arrangement Malvern proposed, with her in charge of the land horses and me in charge of the _capaill uisce_.

"They leave less muck around," she says.

A laugh is drawn out of my stomach. "Yes, that just makes me so fortunate, doesn't it?"

"Want to help me start cleaning this filth?"

"Not really," I say truthfully. When she glares at me, I smile and press a kiss to her cheek. "But anything for you, love."

She gets the buckets and I get the mop. "How are your brothers, by the way?" I ask.

"Gabe sends letters and money every two weeks. From what he writes, I think he's having a blast in the mainland," Puck says. I look up from my mopping and study her closely. Her mouth no longer wavers when she says her older brother's name. I remember the first few weeks after Gabe left, how Puck would come in every morning with swollen eyes and my heart would ache from watching the careful way she held herself.

When my mother first left for the mainland, I cried myself to sleep every night for a month. The hurt never completely erased—and I don't it ever will, but it stopped throbbing so much after a while, like a scar forming after a cut.

I take Puck's hand and feel the warmth radiating from her palm. Our eyes meet, and I know we're thinking the same thing. When you love someone, you love them enough to let them go so that they can find their own happiness.

"And how is Finn?" I ask, reluctantly releasing her hand to take up my mop again.

Puck rolls her eyes. "He's still trying to track down the Morris. After the races, I got him a new car to tinker with, but he claims it's not fun to work on a car that doesn't have any broken parts." She snorts. "So I told him that if he tracks down the mainland tourist that bought the Morris, we'll take a trip to the mainland to buy it back."

I stop again and stare at Puck to see if she's really serious.

"It's pretty much my fault he had to sell it in the first place," she explains, her expression transforming into a guilty one. "And I did promise him before that if I won the Races, I would buy him the car back."

"This is assuming that Malvern is going to let you off to go to the mainland."

Puck gives me a look that challenges me to bet against it. I don't take the chance, seeing that Puck is extremely aggressive when she wants something and Malvern seems to have respect for her. For example, Puck was promoted to co-head trainer in two months while it took me two _years_ for Malvern to hand me the position.

"You should come too," Puck continues.

I scrub up the dirty corners of the horse stall with the mop. "Puck, I don't—"

"We can make a surprise visit to Gabe and Beech's new place and…" She trails off here and I look sharply at her, waiting for the rest of the sentence.

She doesn't meet my gaze when she says, "And we can stop by your mother's place too, if you want."

The words hit me like nails flying into wood. They poke at the scar formed after my mother's departure.

"I don't know her address," I finally say.

"We could find it in one of those address books on the mainland."

"I don't know," I say again. The rest of the sentence goes unspoken. _I don't know if I'm ready to see her again_.

When Puck speaks again, her words are hesitant and gentle, as if taming a jittery _capaill uisce_. "I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about this. It's entirely your choice."

We work in silence for a few minutes. I try to bring the image of my mother's face into my mind, but her facial features are no longer clear. All I remember are a puckered mouth and long, black curls framing her face.

Like Puck said, it's my choice. And it's one I want to take long moments to ponder.

We finish up the stall in a comfortable silence and have just started cleaning the one next to it when a few stable boys arrive to relieve us of our work. They're tightly holding their noses to the stench that I've somehow gotten used to. Their eyes widen when see the piles of muck all over the stalls and I hear a few muttered curses and groans.

"Blame your friend Wendell," Puck tells them. I hold the door for her as she steps out of the stall before stepping out myself. "Good luck, boys."

As I walk her down the aisle, she catches my hand and intertwines our fingers. "I should go up to Malvern's office. I'll see you later?"

Rays of sunlight shine through the opening of the stable and hit her red strands, turning her hair to an orange color. It is the color of sunrise. I tuck a rogue curl behind her ear and lean toward her slightly parted, chapped lips. She wraps her arms around my neck and deepens the kiss. It takes all my willpower to keep my hands still, but a few hoots and wolf-whistles remind me where we are.

"I'll be here," I tell her.


End file.
